Backward Glances
by Starving For Attention
Summary: Three years after the catastrophe at the Opera Populaire, Christine's mind was far from the incident and the man behind it - until a note arrives at her doorstep.


**This is going to be a bit of a continuation of the movie. However, I'm disregarding the black and white present-day clips. I am pulling a few things from the Leroux's book, but nothing huge (Probably things like the Phantom's name).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera in any way, shape, or form, no matter how much I wish I did.**

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"_Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires._" - Francois de La Rochefoucauld

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The day described as the third anniversary of the Opera Populaire's demise by flames, the day marking the third year Christine Daae had abstained from singing at that same opera house where she had lived for so long, a letter arrived at the common doorstep of Madame Christine and the Viscount de Chagney.

Other than the presence of this letter, the day itself would not have been considered in any way out of the ordinary. The sun was shining over the hills of the land bought and owned by the Viscount himself, and the quaint household he shared with his wife of two years. This house was not one that any unaware person would think to be the residency of such an esteemed title. And however unlikely it may have seemed, this house was where Raoul de Chagney had lived with his wife since their marriage, and it was over this house's threshold Christine stepped the very morning in question, and immediately noticed the conspicuous piece of mail that lay atop the pile of ordinary envelopes.

This letter was more of a note, not bigger than a postcard, the envelope plainly white and rectangular in shape, save for the thick black border around the edges. Christine's name and the address at which she resided was scrawled in the red ink on the front, though the handwriting was quite unfamiliar to her.

She picked up the small pile of mail without turning over the note atop, and brought it inside, every few seconds glancing down at it as though it were something obtrusive or obscene. Christine heard the bathroom door close and took it as an opportunity to hide her note under her pillow on the bed Raoul and her shared, away from her husband's prying eyes. She may not have been completely sure why, but Christine knew she wanted to keep this to herself, at least for now.

"Did you check the mail?"

Christine jumped and spun around so quickly at this that the envelopes in her hands went flying out of her grasp, scattering the floor of the bedroom. Raoul gave her a bemused smile and bent down to pick them up. "I guess you did," he told her, chuckling.  


"I'm sorry, Raoul. I was just... um, you just... you frightened me..."

"It's all right," he reassured her, standing up once he got the last envelope. He began flipping through the mail curiously. "Anything good?"

Christine shrugged, opting to keep her eyes focused on his fast-moving hands instead of his face. "I didn't really look."

The pausing of Raoul's hands made Christine glance up to face him, and saw that he had fixed her with a look of concern. "Are you all right?"

Christine smiled softly, nodding. "I'm a bit tired, that's all."

"Well, we're not busy today. Why don't you lay down?" Smiling, he ran his hands down Christine's bare arms, coming to rest with her hands within his, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Get some sleep. Go on."

Her eyes flickered over to her pillow, then back to her husband. "It's only the afternoon, if I go to sleep now I'll be up all night. I think I'd rather just stay up the rest of the day, then go to bed early."

Raoul laughed softly. "All right, we can do that too... You're acting very jittery today, are you sure you're feeling okay?" He placed a hand on her forehead, then her cheek, his face taking on a very purposeful expression with a hint of mock-concern, like that of a doctor. "Miss, I'm afraid you better lie down."

Christine flashed him a puzzled look, slowly pushing his hand away from her face. "Raoul, I just said I don't want to sleep," she told him hesitantly, a small smile crossing her face when he laughed aloud.

"Christine, sometimes it astounds me how naive you still are, even after being married for over two years." He shook his head incredulously when her expression didn't change, setting a hand on each of her shoulders. "There _are_ other uses of a bed besides sleeping, my dear..."

She raised her eyebrows playfully and opened her mouth to speak, but Raoul silenced her with a kiss, putting a hand on the back of her neck and walking them both towards the bed.

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That night, Christine lay in bed beside her husband, insomnia taking over as her gaze was fixed on the ceiling of their bedroom. Raoul, oblivious to her current state or the reason behind it, was comfortably asleep in a deep slumber. The note from that morning lay untouched beneath her pillow, unobtrusive to anyone, yet Christine felt its presence as the princess felt the pea beneath all the mattresses. It gnawed at her conscience, disrupting her frame of mind and therefore much-needed sleep.

Curiosity setting in, she stole a quick glance at Raoul, assuring that he was still fast asleep, and reached under her pillow for the note. She pulled it out and held it close to her face to read the print; she didn't want to risk wakening Raoul with turning on a lamp. The handwriting was curvy and slightly slanted, and was written in what she assumed was a quill. Christine ran her fingers over the black edges of the envelope before flipping it over to look at the back. She was almost disappointed to see that the red skull she had come to associate with notes such as these was missing; the only thing adorning the back was a plain stamp.

With another quick look at her husband, Christine ran her finger under the envelope's flap until it was no longer sealed. After lifting the flap, she was slightly surprised not to see a paper peeking out from inside the envelope. At first glance, it looked empty, so she reached inside to see what was within, because she highly doubted that someone would go through the trouble of sending her an empty envelope. What she touched within felt like a patch of silk, soft and delicate. She curled her fingers around the mysterious object and pulled it out, shifting it to her palm and holding it up to her eyes.

In her hand lay a mildly withered blood-red rose petal.

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**Review please! :D**


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